


Steve & Stephen's Excellent Adventure

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: An Attempt to Untangle Canon, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Emotionally Kind of a Fix-It, F/M, Fridge Horror, Gen, Humor, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Single Timeline Theory, Steve POV, Technically Not a Fix-It, Time Travel, canonical character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: After dropping off the last infinity stone, Steve Rogers takes a brief detour to the 1940s. At least, it’s meant to be a brief detour, but then Stephen Strange shows up. And keeps showing up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   1. This fic is primarily **GEN** and is marked for **Major Character Death**. The second refers to canonical character deaths that occur in the MCU up until the end of the battle with Thanos, and includes **Peggy, Natasha and Tony**.
>   2. This probably doesn’t fit with _Agent Carter_ or _Agents of SHIELD_ , which I haven’t watched.
>   3. This fic was inspired by elements of Terry Pratchett’s _Thief of Time_ and _Night Watch_.
> 


Technically, it isn’t Steve’s idea.

Technically, it’s no one’s idea.

It already happened, so it has to happen.

 

+

 

Steve first learns of Stephen Strange during the time heist brainstorming. The guy’s a literal doctor, Tony says; a neurosurgeon turned wizard turned owner of the time stone, thus making him one of their marks in the 2012 New York leg of the heist.

There are pictures of Dr. Strange on the internet, so when the guy shows up later on the battlefield with Thanos, the only surprise for Steve is the sentient cape. The outfit is to be expected in their line of work, while the flashy magic and flying is a non-starter after Wanda and Carol.

They don’t exchange words, but that’s because there’s a fight to be had. There are just too many people on the field that Steve doesn’t know personally but puts his trust in anyway. They win.

The doctor attends Tony’s funeral, too, but without the cape and with a somber expression that marks of a shared experience with Tony that Steve will never know.

There’s some small talk, but it’s brief. Steve shakes his and Wong’s hands before they leave in a portal, and Steve mentally marks the sorcerer in his head as: one-time ally, acquaintance, probably will never see each other again.

 

+

 

The last infinity stone that Steve needs to return is the space stone, housed in a brand-new Tesseract courtesy of Shuri’s reverse-engineering.

He’s made it back to Camp Lehigh of 1970, this time in a dark suit instead of greens, his hair slicked back and spectacles on his nose. He makes it into the bunker, and the elevator is empty when he steps into it, but a handful of floors down it comes to an abrupt, unexpected stop.

The doors open. Security is there, their guns aimed on him. Standing in their midst is the same agent that he and Tony encountered the last time they were here.

“That’s him!” she crows triumphantly. “That’s the guy.”

Steve doesn’t sigh, but it’s close. He puts the case down and raises his hands politely.

Their taking him into custody isn’t as much a problem this time as it would’ve been the previous go round. The Tesseract is in the case, so the agents will just return it to its proper place in storage, and Steve merely needs a free second where most of them aren’t looking to tap at the timespace GPS on his wrist and return to the quantum realm. So Steve stays pliant as security marches him down the hallway.

Then the universe throws him a curveball.

Director Margaret Carter steps out through a doorway and into their path.

Yes, Steve panics, but he does it quietly and without moving a muscle. He keeps his head down, avoids her eye.

“Put him in the Holding Room 2,” Peggy says.

Steve almost sags in relief. A holding room would be perfect for his escape.

He’s thinking of that and only that, so he starts when Peggy comes up to him, her voice pitched low so to be heard by only him, “You do realize that when you stand two inches in front of a glass window, no matter how dark it is inside, you will be seen? For goodness sake, Steve.”

Steve stares at her, startled. By comparison, Peggy’s face is impassive, save a delicate lift of one eyebrow.

“Go on, then,” Peggy says loudly, and security starts marching Steve again.

 

+

 

In Holding Room 2, Steve thinks. He only needs the one Pym Particle to take him back to 2023, but he has two spares for contingencies. Bruce was vehement about him carrying the spares, because there was no need to take more risks after everything they’d been through.

Steve agrees on the part about unnecessary risks.

Yet there’s Peggy, and how she was unsurprised (and almost irritated) to see him. As if she knew that he’d be here and what he wanted.

It makes no sense, unless?

Steve has the two spares. He could use one to give Peggy closure. Based on her reaction to seeing him today, it seems that he already has.

His hands are cuffed in front of him to the table, so it’s easy enough to type in new numbers into the GPS. Is 1946 too soon after his fall into the ice? 1948 might be a better bet.

Steve stands up, dragging the whole table with him as he goes into the security camera’s blind spot, where he taps the button.

 

+

 

It takes a little time, but he finds Peggy.

It takes a little more time to gather the courage to knock on the door and reveal himself.

Following that, it takes a little less time (thankfully) to convince her that he’s really truly Steve Rogers, and that it’s okay if she wants to keep throwing furniture at him, but he can explain, really he can.

It’s an intense few hours. Peggy cries. Steve cries. Peggy’s broken table divides the room where they’ve sat on the floor at opposite sides, the grief and shock almost too much to hold them upright.

It’s hard to say who gets up first. But they do, and they get their dance.

 

+

 

When the record nears the end, Peggy draws out of Steve’s arms. She holds his hands in hers, and her face is clear now.

“Is this it?” Peggy asks. “Are you going back now?”

“I…” Steve should say yes. That’s the right thing to do, because they’ve made enough changes already, and there are things to do and rebuild. (But there are so many protectors now, Steve’s brain tells him. There are others to carry on the fight.)

It might’ve taken longer for Steve to find that answer, but he’s interrupted by – how was it Tony described it? _Sparkler magic._

This isn’t like the portals used during the battle against Thanos. Instead of a circle there is a single line hovering in the open space of Peggy’s apartment, a jagged piece of light cutting through reality. The narrow maw that opens does not appear to lead to anywhere but pure darkness, yet Doctor Strange steps right through, cloak and tunic and gloves all. Peggy startles but holds her ground, battle ready.

“Captain Rogers,” Doctor Strange says, lifting a hand to his forelock in greeting. “Director Carter.”

“Not a director yet,” Steve says, while Peggy makes a pleased sound. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to see the remaining Pym Particles you have,” Strange says. “There’s a problem.”

Steve has the quantum equipment with him at all times, because there’s taking risks and then there’s _taking risks_. He takes out the two vials he has left and hands them over into Strange’s gloved hands.

Strange holds the vials up to the light, humming thoughtfully. “Thank you.” With his other hand, he makes a slicing motion in the air, cutting a new portal open.

“Uh, wait,” Steve says, as Strange takes a step sideways into the portal, “what are you—”

But the portal’s closed and gone.

Steve stares, dumbfounded.

Into the silence that drags on far longer in Steve’s head than it probably does in reality, Peggy says: “That wasn’t part of your plan, was it?”

“No,” Steve says. “I don’t… why would… What?”

“Maybe he needs to fix your Particles first.”

“He’s not that kind of doctor,” Steve says.

“That man’s a _doctor_?”

 

+

 

Steve helps Peggy clean up her apartment, though he was going to do that anyway.

By the time everything’s set back in place, or as much as is possible, the shock has worn off and Steve’s figured out his options. There aren’t many.

That night, Steve sleeps on Peggy’s couch. The next morning, Peggy kisses him on the cheek before going to work.

“Feel free to disappear by the time I get back,” she says. “It was wonderful to see you again.”

“It was wonderful to be shot at again,” Steve replies. “Among other things.”

Steve watches her go, and locks the door behind her. He spends the day thinking through the options again, this time to include contingencies against actually being stuck here. Which is possible. What are the chances of Howard Stark having discovered suspended animation by this time? Wakanda probably has, but Steve’s not suicidal enough to go knocking at doors unwanted.

He needs to plan carefully. This wouldn’t be like walking around 1970. He’s not just living memory here, after all. His face is still plastered all over newsreels and in cinemas.

Steve’s still in the apartment when Peggy returns.

 

+

 

Over the next few days, Steve tries a few things, but mainly he lies low. (Howard doesn’t have suspended animation yet.)

Steve’s in Peggy’s apartment poring over newspapers when Strange shows up again. This time he’s prepared, and is up on his feet the moment that he hears the tell-tale fire rustling. When Strange steps through the portal, Steve throws a lead-lined briefcase at him.

Strange catches the briefcase with a wave of his hand, and carefully sets it on the floor.

“Sorry about that,” Strange says.

“You don’t sound sorry,” Steve says.

“Probably.” Strange considers his surroundings, and gestures at Steve to get up from his low attack crouch. He exudes impatience and insouciance, and Steve has half a mind not to do a damned thing. “Come on, do you want to be stuck in here for the rest of your life?”

Steve begrudgingly gets up. He watches suspiciously as Strange makes a shape with his fingers, threads of magic dancing between his fingertips. At a flick, the threads leap forward onto Steve’s face.

There’s no pain. Just the faint, brief sensation of wind on his face.

“There you go,” Strange says.

“What did you do?” Steve asks.

“Take a look.”

Steve follows Strange’s gesture to the round mirror Peggy has on her wall. It takes Steve a second to realize that the mirror isn’t warped. The reflection that looks back at him is of a man that’s not quite him: still a white guy with blonde hair and blue eyes, but with a narrower nose, eyebrows farther apart, and a thicker chin. If he squints, he can almost see himself in there.

“You can turn it on and off as you like, but people who know who are you will see right through it as soon as you tell them.” Strange fiddles with more magic threads in his hands, eventually coming up with a ring that he tosses over.

Steve catches it without thinking.

“That should last a few hundred years,” Strange says, pulling a portal up next to him. “All right, that should cover it.”

“Wait, _no_.” Steve grabs the cloak before Strange can step through. “You just said I wouldn’t be stuck in this time.”

“No.” Strange has the temerity to roll his eyes at Steve. “Now you’re not stuck in _this apartment_. Go out. Get some fresh air. There’s still fresh air in the 1940s, right?”

“You can’t be—” The cloak smacks Steve in the face, sending him landing on his back. By the time his vision clears, Strange is gone.

Steve takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it. He does not punch anything.

 

+

 

Steve leaves a note for Peggy.

He doesn’t have any money, and he’s rusty by about a decade by now, but he can manage.

He goes into the city. He runs. He thinks about Camp Lehigh, which is still a training base and has no Pym Particles whatsoever. He thinks about the improbability of stealing a plane to crash into northern ice, and has a very vivid mental image of Natasha calling him an idiot. He thinks about finding the Bleecker Street magician mansion – that’s the time stone’s location, isn’t it? – but after what Strange just did, he’d probably have better luck with Wakanda.

The future will be fine, Steve knows. He and Bruce were the only original Avengers left in the game, but Wanda, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey, Peter, T’Challa – they’re all out there. Earth will be fine, no matter what happens to him.

Steve makes a decision.

He goes to the library. Newspapers and microfilm, the wave of the future.

It’s a long shot, but it’s not as if Steve has much else of a lead to go on. Steve spends hours reading, and gets deep enough that he finds mentions of Swiss scientists being sent to London just before the end of the war.

There’s no telling if that includes Arnim Zola, but his name wouldn’t be in print anyway. Steve remembers from SHIELD files that SSR kept Zola in London a few years after the war, before sending him back stateside once SHIELD was formed. Will be formed.

Peggy finds him like that, hunched over a reader and bleary-eyed. “What are you trying to do now?” she asks.

Steve hesitates. He’s already changed so much be being here, and he shouldn’t make it worse.

But then again, _would_ this be making it worse?

“I’m not the only one who’s still alive.” Steve takes a deep breath, and the plunge. “Bucky is, too. But the difference is that Hydra has him.”

At the name, Peggy’s face hardens. “Now? They have him now?” When Steve affirms this, and she says, “How long will they have him?”

“Too long.”

Peggy nods and checks her watch. It’s late.

“Come on, then,” Peggy says. “We’ll get dinner and discuss what to do.”

 

+

 

It’s an effort to decide what he can say, and what he can’t. With strangers, Steve doesn’t need to think; everything’s on lockdown. But he wants to tell Peggy absolutely everything, consequences be damned.

Steve doesn’t.

He does tell her that there are Hydra cells still out there, and of the experimentation that was (is being) done on Bucky. Peggy, bless her, doesn’t push for too much; she seems far too aware of what’s at stake if she knows too much.

But she does help. She finds out that Zola is still in London, thanks to his current deal with Phillips and the SSR giving him a short leash. Which means that Bucky must be held somewhere else, under someone else.

She pulls a favor and get Steve a new identity and new papers, which he can use to travel. A post-war silver lining, thanks to so many records being lost or misplaced. She also gets him the latest record of known former Hydra bases, with a handful of newer locations.

Steve kisses her goodbye, and ignores that it’s been getting more difficult to do that each time.

 

+

 

Steve makes it as far as Germany.

The first Hydra base of his choice is the one where he’d rescued Bucky and the Howling Commandos from. It’s been scavenged by Allies and left in ruins, but there is enough in the remains for Steve to pick through.

Steve’s familiar with the dizziness of time-displacement déjà vu, which kept him constant company during his first year or so out of the ice. He gets the same dizziness now as he explores the base, except the mirror image of it: everything is still new-ish and within reach.

He finds the old laboratory where they’d experimented on Bucky. Most of it’s been torched, but there’s a half-burned photo wedged between bricks. Steve picks it up and studies the village setting captured in the image. He thinks he can recognize the skyline.

Steve hears the snap-crackle of a magical portal opening. He’s armed and has excellent reflexes, but there’s little he can do against a sentient cloak snapping tight around his body, sending him crashing onto the hard ground. Steve heaves, pushes, twists, but the cloak stays firm.

Strange hovers in the air in front of him, arms crossed. “Can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

“Are you complaining?” Steve tries to wiggle his fingers, but there’s very little give. “Wish I could feel sorry for you.”

Strange sighs. “Fine. Let’s do this.” He holds his hand out in front of him, one of them moving in a smaller circle to conjure a new portal – a round one this time.

When it opens, Peggy’s apartment is beyond it.

“Hey, don’t—” Steve struggles, and even manages to get a hand free, but by then he and Strange have passed through the portal. The cloak dumps him on the wooden floor, almost petulantly, before returning to Strange’s shoulders. The round portal closes immediately behind them.

Steve clambers up to his feet, and a quick glance around confirms that he’s all the way back at Peggy’s. He starts to curse, but is startled into silence when Strange walks over to one of Peggy’s overstuffed chairs and sits down.

“What time is it?” Strange starts to look at his watch, remembers himself, and searches for the wall clock. “Ah, so Carter will probably not back for a while, yes? We can have a chat.”

“ _Now_ you want to have a chat,” Steve says.

“Frankly speaking, we probably should have had a chat from the first, but the fact is: you will enjoy approximately, hmm, _nothing_ of what I have to say. So, yes, I hoped it would not be necessary, but mainly put it off for both our sakes.”

“Seriously.” Steve removes his backpack and sets it aside. He regards Strange, then pointedly detours to Peggy’s kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Not really, but you can give me an empty cup if that’ll make you feel better.”

Steve isn’t petty enough to clatter Peggy’s cups, so he doesn’t. He does, however, prepare and pour out two servings of coffee, and puts Strange’s in front of him. Steve takes the chair opposite Strange’s, and waits.

Strange starts: “It would’ve been easiest if you just took the opportunity, as it were. You found your way back here, to the life you left behind—”

“I’m legally dead.”

“—and the woman you love.”

“Who has a life of her own, and will be married one day.”

“To you.” Strange does a little gesture of the head, highlighting the dramatic. “She will be married to you.”

Steve starts to wonder what that might be like, but quickly shakes his head. “No. She’s going to marry a soldier I rescued during the war.”

“A new identity, which you’ve already taken.”

“I… what? No, the papers Peggy got for me are just faked—”

“Made by a forger using a dead man’s records.” Strange pauses, giving that time to sink in. “Peggy Carter’s husband is you, and has always been you. Will _be_ you, I suppose. Ah – the magic of time travel. So sit back, relax, enjoy your retirement.” He stands up. “I’ll be off now.”

“No, _no!_ ” Steve’s surprised when Strange actually stills. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“How can I _always_ have been Peggy’s husband? That’s not how Bruce explained it. The future is my past now, and everything is cause and effect.”

“To be fair, you’re all amateurs,” Strange says. “I’m Master of the Time Stone, so I know a tad more about how time works than you do. You and I and Carter and everyone else you know exist on a single timeline. _This_ timeline. Which is kept intact and flowing in a single stream by the governance of reality. Within this timeline are loops that forever circle on themselves – you have a looped place in the timeline, for example – but they, too, fold into the great flow.”

“So… everything that happens has always happened and will always happen?”

“Precisely.”

“Sounds like horseshit.”

“Ah, but the finest bespoke horseshit in all reality.” Strange steps away from the living area, readying himself to leave. “I couldn’t let you quantum-jump back to ‘23, because if you did, the universe would implode on itself.”

Steve hesitates. “Implode?”

“Everyone and everything you’ve ever known – gone.” Strange’s face shifts, sympathy briefly bleeding through as he pats his gloves down. When he next speaks, it’s ever-so-slightly kinder: “Look at it this way. Did you choose to wake up in 21st century? No. You didn’t choose to get stuck in the 1940s, either. But that is the way it is. Even the Sorcerer Supreme can only bend the rules, not break them.”

“I’m here,” Steve says slowly, letting the words settle in his head. “Because I’ve always been there.”

“That’s right. And this—” Strange cuts a new jagged portal to life in the air, “—is an ability I only have because of you, and your loop. I cannot travel freely either.”

Steve’s head is reeling, and he can only watch as Strange steps through the dark maw.

“There isn’t even a time stone in the future anymore,” Steve says.

Strange pauses, half-in and half-out of the portal. “Not the way _you_ know it as a stone, yes.”

Then he’s gone, and all that’s left is Steve Rogers. Man out of time once again, because why not. He’d had ten years to become an expert, so he can do it again. Maybe. Probably.

“Damn it,” Steve mutters.

 

+

 

It’s actually three days before Peggy returns to her apartment from a mission. When she asks him what happened, he’s vague on the details of what happened with Strange, but boils everything down to the apparent fact that he’s here now, for good.

“Permanently?” Peggy says.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“Ah.”

As they look at each other, something in the air… shifts. A sudden awareness that whatever happens now isn’t a mirage, and that anything they do could have long-term consequences.

There’s no _way_ Steve will tell her about their getting married in the future. That ‘fact’ may have sounded sensible coming from Stephen Strange, but it feels wrong now, when faced with the actual other person involved.

Peggy, who’s not an aching phantom limb of Steve’s memories, but a woman who’s about to start SHIELD and change the world.

“I should get a place of my own,” Steve blurts out.

“Yes, that should be…” Peggy clears her throat. “Yes.”

 

+

 

Steve tries, really he does. He gets a serviceable apartment, does a handful of different jobs, and even helps Peggy with a few off-the-books tasks that are great fun and involve throwing objects at bad guys. He makes a few casual friends, takes up drawing again, and has dinner with Peggy every other week when she’s available.

They’re not dates. No matter how often Steve hears Natasha’s voice whispering in his ear: _You first._

A few weeks into the new year, Steve takes off again.

He’s better equipped this time. Intel is slow to find in the 40s but he’s still gotten new leads and canvassed new sources. Better still, he has a specific date that he remembers from his and Natasha’s upending of Hydra’s archives when they took SHIELD down. There were few early Winter Soldier details in those files – Hydra’s still recuperating and lying low in 1949 – but there was one incident that Steve remembers. A test run for Bucky and his new arm.

Steve goes to northern Italy.

He doesn’t know the mark, but he knows the location. He spends a few days before the test date scouting the area, trying to find bases or potential campsites, and narrows down the possibilities.

He’s ready, and waits.

On the night itself, as Steve is prepping his gear, Strange stops him.

“Rogers,” Strange says. “Didn’t we already have this chat?”

“Oh, so our meetings are happening linearly for you?” Steve palmed a knife as soon as he heard the portal opening, but unfortunately Strange’s used the magic ropes on him, which bind even tighter than the cloak.

“Linearly,” Strange says flatly, though Steve thinks there might be a hint of surprise in there. “Yes, it is happening linearly for me, as it is for you. Every time you poke at the timestream, I can feel it.”

“Sorry, I’ll try to poke softer.”

“You’re not supposed to poke at all.”

“Was it?” Steve says innocently. “You just said I have to live out my life here. You didn’t say I couldn’t change anything.”

“That’s not—” Strange stops and takes a deep breath. “You understand the concept of a single timeline, yes? Everything that already happened, has _to_ happen, within the confines of your loop. History has to play out the way it’s always played out. And that includes Bucky Barnes’ being the Winter Soldier up until… when was it? 2013?”

“Thereabouts,” Steve says. “See, doctor, what you’re describing sounds like there’s no such thing as free will. Can’t say I’m a fan.”

“Of course there’s free will,” Strange snaps. “You have free will to do what you’re doing, and I have free will to knock you on your ass. Or even give you a nap.”

“Hey, wait—”

“This is my job, Rogers,” Strange says, a hand raised ominously. “And I do take it seriously.”

Steve passes out, and wakes up over a day later, long after the test with Bucky is over and done with.

 

+

 

Steve returns to New York.

He’s not angry.

Well, he’s less angry that he should be under the circumstances.

At the next dinner he has with Peggy, he says, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh, marvelous,” Peggy says. “There’s something I’d like to tell you, too.”

Steve starts. “Um. You’ve met someone?”

“Please, Steve, I have my priorities,” Peggy says, waving him off. “We’ve completed the transfer, so you’re looking at the founder of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. All right, I’m _one_ of the founders, but I’d like to take full credit for at least tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Full credit is yours for as long as you wish,” Steve says, heartfelt and earnest. “Congratulations.”

“Of course, I am aware that this is less a surprise for you,” Peggy says.

“I don’t know everything.”

“You know enough.”

“Not really.”

Peggy steeples her hands in front of her. She’s always beautiful, but sometimes – like now – it takes Steve’s breath away all over again. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Uh. I think I should wait—”

“Steve, no.”

He clears his throat, tries to get his thoughts back in order. “I couldn’t tell you this before because…”

“I understand. What’s changed?”

“Probably because I realized that I don’t believe in destiny.” Steve sighs. “I know it’s a downer because SHIELD is literally a few days old but…”

Peggy’s eyes are sharp. “You can tell me.”

“In the future,” Steve says slowly, his ears open for the firecracker noise that doesn’t arrive, “seventy – sorry, sixty years from now, we find out that Hydra has been infiltrating SHIELD all along.”

“From its inception?”

“The early records are unclear, and most of Hydra’s special ops missions were never recorded in the archives we cracked. But by the 90s they were powerful enough to start using SHIELD assets openly, and in the ‘10s planned a worldwide assault.”

“Bollocks,” Peggy breathes. “All right. That’s something to think about.”

 

+

 

Steve tries to argue against it, but Peggy’s determined.

She brings him into SHIELD as a security contractor. More accurately, she pushes him into Howard Stark’s path to get him hired as security contractor, and it sticks.

He takes low-level missions, earns his keep, doesn’t make waves. He learns enough about the efforts to mop-up Hydra and their allies. He keeps his eyes and ears open, and sends anything suspicious Peggy’s way. General Phillips side-eyes him whenever they cross paths, but Steve figures he would’ve done that regardless.

Strange doesn’t show up.

It takes a while, but there are eventually enough pieces together to point towards an active Hydra cell hiding out in the Swiss mountains. The case isn’t his, but Steve manages to be put on the team that’s sent out to investigate.

Steve doesn’t expect to hit the jackpot. Hope isn’t the same as expectation.

There are a few possible locations, all of them farmsteads or bunkers left abandoned or semi-abandoned after the war. The agents that Steve’s with investigate one after another, each turning up empty, until.

On this night, Steve’s stationed at their latest basecamp, downwind from the two next sites of interest. He’s alone to hold position while the others are out on their investigations. Most agents don’t bother radioing him in unless there’s an emergency and they need back-up, so Steve’s used to the quiet.

Hence, he’s by himself when he hears the gunshots.

The sound is distant, and only audible from Steve’s vantage point because of his enhanced hearing. It came from North-East, and not the direction of the team’s current site of interest.

It could be nothing. Local hunters. An argument. A parent teaching their child to shoot. (At night?)

Steve goes outside and finds a high point. He brings both his regular binoculars and the quaint night vision goggles he still needs getting used to.

Even 150 yards away and under not much more than moonlight, Steve knows who it is that’s running down the slope. He knows that gait; he knows that silhouette.

Steve takes off at a dead run.

Bucky doesn’t seem to know where he’s going. He’s zig-zagging over rock and snow, fast but clumsy. Steve hasn’t had a good run in a while, and he’s barely winded when he tackles Bucky, sending them crashing over onto the ground.

Bucky punches him. This is expected.

Steve rolls away and stays in a low defensive position. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He keeps his voice steady and soothing. “Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes are wild, his hair is shorn short to the scalp, and there’s a glint of the metal arm at the cuffs of the too-large jacket he’s wearing. There is no recognition in the way he looks at Steve.

“Hey there,” Steve says carefully. “I want to help. I’m a—”

Bucky launches himself at Steve.

This isn’t like fighting the Winter Soldier. Instead of brutal efficiency, Bucky is just plain brutal. Steve hasn’t fought like this in a while, but he remembers how to do it.

Steve hears the crunch of approaching boots. He turns, his baton up to catch Bucky’s attempt to kick him. He hears the shot that strikes him, but not soon enough to avoid it.

An enhanced taser, not unlike the Tesseract-powered weapons Steve and the Howling Commandos spent years destroying. This one feels like a second or third generation, probably an attempt to recreate that power but falling just short.

That said, it definitely would’ve killed him if Steve were a regular person.

As it is, Steve is merely stunned and left for dead. He gets to watch as Bucky is brought down by three Hydra mooks and is loaded into a truck. “That was close,” one of the mooks says.

It’s then and there that Steve realizes: Bucky could have escaped. He had enough of a head start and could’ve made it to the road or taken cover.

Steve slowed him down.

 

+

 

The agents are still not back by the time Steve drags himself, shaking and smoking faintly, back to camp.

What are the chances of his being able to trace them now? Steve could take the truck and his chances, but his going AWOL would come back on Peggy, who has problems of her own and doesn’t need her favoritism of a random SHIELD employee to be used against her.

He could check the base out himself, before the agents get there. Find any clues, pin his own leads for later use.

Steve makes it a handful of steps away from camp when he hears the crackle of a portal.

He heaves a great breath, and stops walking.

“Oh, that’s chilly.” When Strange comes up to Steve’s side, the cloak is drawn cozy and snug over his usual robes. “Amazing. You haven’t tried to throw anything at me this time.”

“Did my coming here ruin Bucky’s chances of escaping?” Steve asks. “Hell, did my telling Peggy about Hydra _cause_ Hydra to infiltrate SHIELD somehow? Do they get their fingers in because she knows about them?”

Strange looses a long exhale. “One: I’m not omnipotent. I do not have clue. Two: does it matter? Because you literally know that it all works out eventually.”

“At what cost?”

“At a cost that has already been paid. You saw it, you lived it.”

“But I’m living in this _right now_. Why didn’t you just erase my memory?” Steve takes a step away from Strange, just in case. “That’s a question, not a request.”

“I could do it,” Strange says. “I could leave you with just enough of yourself. Would that make it easier?”

“No, I guess not.” It’s too easy to picture himself driven to distraction in the search for answers. “It’s just… There are some things I can do to help people, but there are other things I _can’t_?”

“There’s no great plan, if that’s what you’re wondering. Everything’s a big mess. We just do what we can.”

Steve’s legs are wobbly, and not only because he’s still recovering from the taser. He’s so tired. “What _is_ this? Why am I in this loop at all?”

“You might as well ask why there are black holes, or microverses, or magic. They exist, and the universe exists around them. Oh, I almost forgot.” At a gesture, the cloak unfolds itself from around Strange. There’s a rustle of paper on Strange’s person, though Steve can’t be bothered to be curious until Strange thrusts a large yellow envelope at him.

“What?” Steve says.

“These are for you.” Strange almost sounds kind.

Steve opens the envelope. There are folded sheets of paper inside, and he opens the topmost piece. It’s a letter, and the handwriting is…

He flips the page, scanning down to the bottom. Right there is Bucky’s messy scrawl of a sign-off.

Steve flips it back over and to the top: ‘ _Hey Steve, so this guy who says he’s a sorcerer said that we can write something to send to you…_ ’

He scans the letter quickly, disbelievingly. A segment jumps out: ‘ _I’d tell you not to worry, but I know how far that’ll go. Seriously, though, you shouldn’t worry. Live your life, see the sights, enjoy the crappy food.’_

There are a few letters from Bucky, a few from Sam, and one from Bruce.

Steve has to take a moment to remember how to speak. “What is this?”

“An exception,” Strange says. “Difficult to make, but this one didn’t burn up in the crossover.”

From when, Steve wants to ask, but then he finds the photograph between the sheets. It’s a digital printout of a photo with Sam and Bucky: Sam’s holding a shield ( _the_ shield?) while the pair of them flank a third, unfamiliar person.

Steve brings the photo up close to study. The third person is an old man dressed in flannel and khaki, his silver hair combed back.

“That’s me,” Steve says. “It will be me.”

“Yes,” Strange says.

“So they know what happened to me, where I am. When I am.”

“I didn’t tell them. You did.”

Steve nods slowly. “Yes, that makes sense.”

So, he’ll live long enough to see them again. He’ll live through _everything_ again, and at a remove. Somehow, the prospect sounds far less daunting when it’s confirmed. Now that he knows it’s going to happen, he can prepare for it.

Which is made easier, knowing that Bucky and Sam know about it, too.

“We joked about it, me and Bucky,” Steve says. “The night before I left to put the stones back. He said that I’d get distracted and stay here. I told him I wouldn’t do that, but he… I suppose he knew. Or suspected. Do you think it’s because he remembered seeing me? From tonight?”

“He didn’t say,” Strange says.

Steve looks at the paper he’s holding. _‘Sam’s still lousy with the shield,’_ Bucky’s written. ‘ _I catch it sometimes when he throws it, just cause.’_

The mental image has Steve smiling. He pictures Sam huffing and gesticulating wildly, while a fair training distance away Bucky shrugs, still holding on to the shield. Maybe the Avengers compound has been rebuilt by then, and they’re among the first to use it.

It works out. They’re fine. Bucky’s fine. Bucky wants this for him.

Steve carefully pushes the letters back into the envelope except one, which he intends to read right now and savor. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t a favor,” Strange says.

“Right,” Steve says neutrally. “Thank you, anyway.”

Strange inclines his head, a professional acknowledgement. Steve hears but doesn’t watch Strange leave.

Steve reads the letter from the corner to corner, then he packs it up with the rest, which he will consume later. He returns to camp, cleans up and changes his clothes.

He holds his post through the rest of the investigation, then returns home, where he shares the letters with Peggy. Steve doesn’t spell the decision out loud, but Peggy sees it in him, in the way he carries the letters and talks of Bucky.

Honestly, Steve doesn’t know if he can do this, but he can try.

Here it goes.


	2. Chapter 2

They tell Dum Dum Dugan first.

Peggy invites him to dinner at her place. When Dum Dum arrives, he’s surprised but polite about Steve’s presence, and there’s a few minutes of awkward small talk.

“There’s something we’d like to tell you,” Peggy says. “You need to swear to secrecy.”

“Yes, of course,” Dum Dum says. “What’s going on?”

Strange didn’t give full instructions, but his spells seem mostly intuitive, so it shouldn’t be anything more complicated than Steve’s just saying his real name out loud.

He waits, though. Gives it a whole five seconds. But there’s no sparkle portal, no sentient cloak to smack him in the face and shut him up.

“Here’s how it is,” Steve says. “I’m Steve Rogers, and I’m still alive.”

Dum Dum’s about to scoff, but his expression transforms into shock.

“Holy shit!” Dum Dum exclaims. “Steve!”

 

+

 

Steve spends Christmas of 1951 in London with Peggy and her family.

He’s only there as a friend, honestly he is, but only until they find themselves under mistletoe.

Peggy huffs in exasperation. “This is getting ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Just a little,” Steve admits.

They kiss.

 

+

 

It’s never completely easy, but it does get easier. That’s life, though, isn’t it? It was like that after coming out of the ice, too.

The rest of the Howling Commandos and two of Peggy’s most trusted friends know that Steve’s alive. (Strange shows up to prevent only their telling Peggy’s closest cousin, Lucas, which she and Steve agree to let slide.) All these reveals are kept simple: it’s enough for their friends to know that Steve’s alive and has to stay hidden. The time travel aspect would just cause more consternation, so they keep quiet on that.

Steve stays with SHIELD. He does what he can, helps the fledgling organization strengthen itself, and watches as Peggy rises higher and higher.

He and Peggy argue about Zola’s deal. Phillips and Howard are determined to keep him, but Peggy doesn’t want him anywhere near SHIELD. Steve convinces Peggy to keep Zola close, so to watch his actions and prevent greater damage. Peggy eventually agrees to this but mainly in the hopes of finding evidence of Zola’s Hydra sympathies and shutting him down for good. Steve thinks that would be amazing, but doubts that it would happen that way.

Camp Lehigh is given a fresh coat of paint. Steve is part of the crew to help SHIELD’s move out of the old SSR offices and into their new headquarters.

One day during this move, Steve takes the elevator down the server room. There are only a few computers down here, with the rest coming soon for Howard and Zola’s overseeing their installation.

Steve takes a moment to stand in the middle of the open, gray-walled space. He breathes in the stale, cold air, and contemplates how much effort it would take to cause a fire in here. There are definitely safeguards, but he could poke around the wiring.

He’s stopped by the oft-familiar crackle, and the snap of a magical band around his wrist.

“I was only looking,” Steve says.

“Sure you were,” Strange says warily.

“I wasn’t going to do anything. Knowing how these things play out, if I actually tried anything, I might’ve become the reason Zola uploaded his brain in here in the first place.”

“Why punish yourself with temptation, then?” Strange starts walking towards the elevator, using the band to pull Steve along with him. “Leave it be.”

“That’s my burden, isn’t it?” Steve follows Strange into the elevator, and presses the button to bring them upward. “Knowing what I know, and _not_ knowing what I can and cannot do. That’s my responsibility to carry, as is yours with guarding the timeline.”

“If that philosophy works for you, why not.”

Strange means that to sound dismissive, but Steve doesn’t fall for it. For all that Steve’s been frustrated with the guy, that frustration has gone both ways. It isn’t even personal for Strange, for whom this is just the work. Steve gets that.

“There’s just one timeline, right?” Steve says. When Strange hums an agreement, Steve adds, “Then what about when I fought myself on the day of the Chitauri attack? Because that didn’t happen the first time around.”

Strange makes a face of a man who’s spontaneously found a lemon in his mouth. “Both versions happened.”

“Both versions… what? How?”

“I have a very…” Strange stops, takes a breath, and starts again. “Imagine a thread that unwinds into two thinner threads. I wind them back together into one.”

“No, I don’t think that works, because I only remember it playing out one way—”

Strange taps a hand against Steve’s forehead, quick as you please.

Steve remembers both. He remembers doing the clean-up sweep after the Chitauri attack with little incident. But he also remembers meeting his doppelganger, engaging him in a fight, and being partially mind-wiped with the scepter at the end of it. He remembers a version where Loki was always in their custody, and a version where Loki escaped with the Tesseract but only for about 15 minutes, when he was mysteriously caught and returned to Thor’s clutches with the Tesseract in tow.

“That’s… interesting,” Steve says.

“Human memories are flexible,” Strange says. “People can confuse dreams for reality and vice versa. So what’s the difficulty in remembering two slightly different versions of something that happened years ago?”

“But there must’ve been evidence, camera footage—”

“Master of the Mystic Arts is full-time job,” Strange says. “And I’m very thorough at what I do.”

“I hope the benefits are good.”

Strange considers this. “They are, actually.”

 

+

 

Peggy’s the one who proposes. Steve doubts he ever would have, knowing what he knows. His surprise is genuine, though.

Their wedding is a private affair, with just family and their few friends who know who Steve is in attendance.

Steve tenders his resignation from SHIELD. Only a handful of people notice.

They find a house in the New Jersey suburbs and celebrate their moving in with a dance in the living room.

 

+

 

Steve doesn’t _stop_ , exactly. It’s just the fight that’s different. He finds places and people to help, and nudges the parts of history that he was always meant to nudge.

Peggy has her own fights, too. Steve helps when she asks, and vice versa.

It’s in the thick of this that Steve realizes that Peggy’s the one who’s holding Hydra at bay. The knowledge he gave her wasn’t for nothing. If it hadn’t been for her, Hydra would’ve gotten their hands into SHIELD and other agencies all over the world deeper and quicker. The equivalent of Project Insight would’ve happened much faster.

It’s not an easy thing to square with, but Steve keeps at it.

 

+

 

This part right here, though? The balancing act of knowing and not knowing, but with Peggy to help out?

It’s its own kind of beautiful.

 

+

 

It’s a surprise for both of them when Peggy gets pregnant. Peggy grumbles at first, because she has so much to do, and she doesn’t have _time_ to take maternity leave, especially with Phillips retiring. It’s a tricky couple of months, and Steve ends up having to intervene in a hostage situation to get Peggy out when her water breaks.

They have a son. (There’ll be a daughter, but that’s a few years to go.)

When Steve holds baby Ryan, he understands with crystal clarity what Tony meant – why he could do the things he did and feared the things he did.

Steve knows he would do anything for their kid. He’d even slow down.

He does.

 

+

 

They still have disagreements, of course. Big ones, like over the constant temptation on Peggy’s part to ask Steve if he knows how events will play out. Small ones, like over the dishes and laundry and Steve’s handling of the household.

One morning, they have an argument that’s somewhere in between the two. They’ve had to put some long hours lately and tempers are frayed, so this extra thing – which Peggy says is unfair and unnecessary, and Steve says is kind of necessary – is the cherry on top. There’s no storming off, but they come to a mutual agreement to not talk to each other for the moment.

Steve stays downstairs trying to calm Ryan down, while Peggy bustles as noisily as she can upstairs.

When the doorbell rings, Steve answers.

There’s a small group of people on their doorstep. The man in front is dressed in a suit, while the others are in various stages of more casual. They’re carrying gear with them, which is expected, though Steve still eyes it cautiously.

“Hi there,” the man says. “I’m Glen Major from the Smithsonian. I believe Director Carter is expecting us?”

“Yes, of course.” Steve opens the door, ushering them in. “We have the place readied up.”

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll need to move the furniture anyway,” Glen says.

Steve shows them the living room. While the camera crew get to work, Steve goes upstairs, still bouncing Ryan on his hip.

“Peggy,” Steve says. “It’s the—”

“I know,” Peggy says curtly. She’s come out of the bedroom fixing the sleeves of her grey-green dress suit. “We could’ve postponed this.”

Steve starts to argue, but stops himself. “Yes, we could have.”

Peggy eyeballs him, still annoyed, but she kisses him as she moves past to the stairs. “This isn’t over.”

“Of course.”

Steve follows Peggy downstairs. Peggy shakes the hands of every crewmember, and Steve hangs back to check on refreshments while they make small talk and discuss other aspects of the project.

They tell her that the Captain America exhibit is on track to open in July and everyone’s so excited.

Peggy replies that she’s just honored to be part of the project because Captain America is _such_ an icon, though of course she didn’t know him _that_ well, but she’d be _more_ than happy to answer any questions they give her.

Steve keeps his head down.

When the cameras are ready, Ryan’s still too wiggly to keep still, so Steve excuses himself to take their son outside.

As Steve heads out the front door, Peggy catches his eye from the place on her couch. None of the Smithsonian project crew are able to read her expression, but Steve can.

 _This is your fault_ , her eyes say.

Steve nods back. _I know. I owe you._

 

+

 

This isn’t exactly the life that Tony and Natasha told him to get, but it’s a pretty good go of it.

 

+

 

In 1963 Steve and Peggy leave Ryan and Katy with Angie’s family for a few days. Peggy has a delicate deal to negotiate in Vienna, and Steve takes a flight out to Dallas.

He has a decent meal, checks in to the hotel room, and goes downtown to explore. It’s not busy yet, but it will be in a few hours.

He finds a place to sit under a tree. Security staff are already scoping the area, but they pay him and other bystanders little mind.

There’s a rustle of movement, and someone sits besides him.

“It’s been a while,” Steve says.

“For you, yes.” Strange looks over at him. “Are you fifty now? Sixty? Have you been keeping track?”

“Best estimate, early-to-mid 50s. Haven’t bench-pressed a truck in a while, but I think can probably still do it.”

Steve had assumed that Strange would always wear the robes and cloak, even out in the open, in broad daylight and with other people nearby. He did wear a regular-looking suit for Tony’s funeral, but that could have just been out of respect for the event. Yet today Strange is wearing a tweed jacket and dark slacks. Perfectly sensible for the 1960s, and puts Steve’s button-down to shame despite probably being an illusion.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Steve says.

“Of course you’re not,” Strange says. “You’re just here for the view.”

“I was just looking for, um… I thought I could get a glimpse of Bucky.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Ah, well. Worth a shot.”

Steve offers his bag of chips to Strange, who starts to shake his head, but then changes his mind and takes a few.

They sit quietly for a minute or so. Steve thinks about Bucky, who’d probably scouted the area a few days ago and has his weapons stash ready and waiting. Strange’s probably right; Steve had only come here in the hopes of seeing him, but he probably wouldn’t have been able to resist jumping in.

“JFK’s motorcade will come from that side, won’t it?” Strange says. “All the way down here?”

“Are you interested in staying to watch?” Steve asks.

“Too morbid.”

Steve can’t disagree. “How’s the future?”

“More of the same.”

“Glad to hear it, actually.”

Strange hums. “Can’t complain, really.”

They finish Steve’s snacks and get up. Strange walks Steve almost a whole block away from the plaza, during which they trade little more than small talk. If one squints, this could almost pass for companionship. Regardless, at the end of the walk, Steve offers his hand.

Strange makes a face at the gesture, but he does take Steve’s hand and shakes it.

“I hope not to see you again until you’re a hundred,” Strange says.

“I’ll try my best,” Steve says.

 

+

 

Peggy comes through the front door, smiling broadly. “You will not guess who I saw at work today.”

As Steve helps Peggy with her coat, he offers his first few answers: Van Dyne, Phillips, Thompson?

But Peggy shakes her head. “No. I saw you. Doing a poor job of espionage, I must say.”

Steve laughs. “That’s today? _Already_? Wow.”

 

+

 

By the 1970s, Steve barely knows what’s going on with SHIELD anymore.

Steve’s social circle keeps him with the Howlies and other veterans, their neighbors, the parents of their kids’s friends, and so on. Sure, Steve still meets Peggy’s colleagues, but it happens less and less.

He declines to attend the Starks’s parties as much as he can, and Peggy doesn’t push. He meets Tony as a child just the once, when he’s three years old and has unbelievably huge eyes.

Peggy’s busy saving the world. Steve just wants to keep up with the kids until they go to college.

 

+

 

By the 1980s, Steve and Peggy sometimes outright forget about Steve’s double-time-traveler status. Steve has become just Steve, who’s settled down, makes a decent living with woodcarving, and only occasionally goes, “Oh, _right_ ,” when something recognizable happens in the massive noise of the world.

But it does come up sometimes. Peggy enjoys discussing her work with Steve, but usually in the most general of terms. Once, over dinner, she says, “You know I don’t like to do this.”

That’s unofficial code for Steve’s role as a warped quasi-prophet. He sits up.

“What is it?” Steve asks.

“There was an unusual incident at work this week,” Peggy says. “Normally we’d handle it ourselves, but seeing as it involves the Tesseract, I thought I’d run it by you. Do you know Dr. Wendy Lawson?”

Steve says that he doesn’t.

She asks: “How about Captain Carol Danvers, US Air Force?”

“Oh? _Oh._ ”

Steve doesn’t ( _didn’t_ ) know Danvers that well, but he knows enough of who she will be. He tells Peggy that Danvers is brave and selfless, and a hero that he’s proud to have fought alongside with.

Peggy is confused. “Danvers is alive? In the future?”

Which makes Steve confused as well. “Yes?”

“But how…” Peggy shakes her head. “I suppose that’s just sweating the details. What matters is that you vouch for her.”

“Yes, she’s the real deal. We weren’t close, but she and Fury were.”

“Fury? As in Nicholas J. Fury?”

“That’s him.” Steve cocks his head and listens, but there’s nothing, no crackle of magical portals. He might even rise to Strange’s challenge at this point. “Isn’t he in SHIELD yet?”

“No, I can’t say that he is.” Peggy leans back in her chair, peas forgotten as she contemplates this. “Keller’s met him, but he said he didn’t sound all that keen on joining SHIELD. That is interesting.”

Steve hums noncommittally and resumes eating.

 

+

 

SHIELD moves to DC, so they move, too. The kids complain a little – Katy more than Ryan – but that gets smoothed over eventually.

Steve takes slow jogs along the route he used to take. ( _Will_ take.)

 

+

 

Most dates have blurred together by this point, but a few still stand out.

In December 1991, Steve makes a point to ensure that he’ll have one particular day entirely to himself.

He has plans. Said plans involve spending most of the day in contemplation, and cooking a hearty meal. In the evening he prepares a proper table setting for one, draws all the curtains of the Carter household shut, and has dinner.

When the meal is finished, Steve lingers with wine and dessert.

It’s at this point that a jagged portal rents the air. Strange steps through, wearing the same robe, cloak and gloves of Steve’s memories. (It’s been a while.) Or perhaps it’s merely a similar robe with the same cloak, for it’s just as likely that Steve missed the finer details of the sorcerer’s wardrobe the first dozen or so times they’d met each other.

“Ah, nuts,” Steve says. “A decade or so and I would’ve made it.”

There’s a second or two where Strange hangs back, as though needing to recognize him through the wrinkles and age spots. There is little else to read on his face as he steps forward.

“Would you like a drink?” Steve asks. “I was going to spend the evening by myself, but seeing as you’re here…”

“Why not.” Strange holds a glove up when Steve starts to push his chair back. “Allow me.”

Perhaps this is a benefit of Steve’s being old now. He watches, intrigued and interested, as Strange uses magic to conjure a wine glass from the cabinet, and fill with it a flick of his finger.

“Peggy’s at work,” Steve tells Strange, who sits at the table and starts nursing the glass. “It’s a normal day, as far as she knows. I’m guessing that she’s overseeing the move of the serum about now. I did think about telling her. I’m _still_ thinking about it. But what if my telling her about what happens is what causes Howard and Maria to transfer the serum in their car in the first place, with no escort? I don’t think I could… No. That would be too much.”

Strange says nothing, but there is sympathy in the way he lowers his gaze.

“Is this normal for you?” Steve asks, honestly curious. “Is this the kind of dilemma you handle on a daily basis?”

“Not a daily basis. But often enough. There was…” Strange hesitates. It’s almost uncharacteristic of him. “It’s a long time ago for you, by now.”

“My memory’s still good.”

“A few of us were on Titan to face Thanos,” Strange says. Steve feels a jolt; it’s the first time in almost a lifetime that he’s heard that name. “I used the time stone to look into possible futures, to see if and how we could defeat him. There was only one successful route and it had Tony Stark in the eye of it.”

At first, there’s a flush of anger. But it’s whisper-thin and gone in an instant.

One would think a half a century of living this life would’ve convinced Steve of the inevitability of destiny. But this ‘loop’ feels less like destiny, and more the means of a stubborn universe cracking open a loophole to make sure that impossible things get to happen.

It feels right that Tony was part of that too, in his own way.

“You told him?” Steve says. “You told him what he had to do?”

“No. He knew as much you did, which is to say, barely anything at all. But at the end – at the very end – he knew what needed to be done.”

“He made a choice.” Steve smiles. “The bravest thing.”

Strange raises his glass, and Steve follows suit. “The bravest thing,” Strange says, low and full of meaning.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve goes with Peggy to the funeral.

As expected, it’s quite the gathering. It’s a grand church funeral, with Howard and Maria’s photos set in front of twin caskets.

Peggy gets to sit up front, so Steve sits with her. Tony is a few seats down the same row, in dark sunglasses and a suit that should be bespoke yet seems ill-fitting. He’s clean-shaven and still so young. Obadiah Stane’s next to him, almost a hulking giant of a man in comparison. Steve means to focus on the speech, but he can’t help tensing up when Obadiah puts his arm over Tony’s shoulder.

Stane gives the speech.

After the bodies are lowered, there’s mingling. Steve means to stay by Peggy’s side as she talks to colleagues and friends, but there’s Tony, who’s surly and quiet and not seeming to notice much of anything that’s happening around him.

Steve starts to step forward, but is stopped by a firm hand on his arm. He turns to face Strange, scowling.

“You’re kidding me,” Steve hisses. “I can’t even say my condolences?”

“Will you stop there?” Strange asks quietly. “Can you resist saying a little more? Maybe suggest that he not rely on his father’s best friend so much?”

“I won’t say any of that. I won’t.”

“You may be confident of that now.” Strange carefully releases his grip on Steve’s arm. “But only when you’re not standing right in front of him.”

Steve swallows. Averts his gaze. Wipes a hand across his face.

“I’d kind of forgotten how it feels to have to do this,” Steve admits.

“You can try to run for it,” Strange says. “If you want to know what I’d do to stop you.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad I can’t throw anything at you anymore.”

“You could throw your dentures. Are you wearing dentures?”

“You’ll find out if I throw them at you.”

Strange’s mouth quirks into an almost-smile. Steve doesn’t relax – _can’t_ relax – but he feels himself unwind a little. He reminds himself where he is and why he’s here.

Steve looks up, and Tony’s talking to Peggy. He’s hunched over and not really listening, but he nods and mutters something in response to what Peggy tells him. Peggy touches his arm in a prelude to a hug, but Tony’s too closed off. Peggy backs away instead. Steve can read her lips: _If you need anything…_

Tony nods.

Steve realizes that Strange is gone, too. Melted into the crowd the natural way, or using some other disappearing trick.

It occurs to Steve just then that Strange was wearing a suit and tie. He wonders if it was the same outfit he wore to Tony’s wake.

 

+

 

There are other deaths. Morita. Falsworth. Angie.

 

+

 

There are births, too.

He and Peggy get their first grandkid. Then a second.

Steve loves being a grandfather, as it turns out.

 

+

 

At long last, Peggy retires, and there’s a farewell party at the Triskelion. Steve goes, because he suspects that he has a reputation as Peggy’s anti-social husband who barely attends anything having to do with one of the greatest roles of Peggy’s life. He can do this thing, at least.

There are speeches. Toasts. Peggy glows with it.

Steve doesn’t know most people in attendance. Peggy’s one of the last holdouts of the older generation, and the younger generation hasn’t fully rolled over to familiar faces.

There’s Fury, though. No eye-patch yet, and not wearing all black.

Steve goes up to him, not expecting much beyond small talk. But it turns out the guy’s a hoot, tells war stories like a champ, and does a mean performance of The Drifters’ _Up on the Roof_. Who would’ve thought?

Alexander Pierce is there, too. Steve’s immediately tempted to pick a passive-aggressive fight with him. When Strange doesn’t show to stop him, he does.

 

+

 

“So this is retired life,” Peggy says.

“Yep,” Steve says.

“It’s not so bad.”

 

+

 

They go dancing. They work on the house. Peggy takes up scrapbooking.

Steve tries to lift their fridge, just to see if he still can. He manages to get it an inch off the floor, and puts out his back for a whole week.

Peggy laughs.

 

+

 

SHIELD agents still drop by the house occasionally, either for social visits or to consult Peggy.

Mostly, it’s Director Keller coming over. After him, there’s Director Fury.

 

+

 

This, Steve didn’t know, and wasn’t expecting.

In 2008, Fury calls the Carter household, and asks Steve if he can bring two of his agents to visit Peggy. Peggy’s health hasn’t been good lately, but she still loves visitors.

Thus it is that on one fine afternoon, Steve greets the arrival of Nick Fury, Clint Barton, and Natasha Romanoff. Clint’s hair is longer; Natasha’s is shorter. They’re all dressed casually and typically for a quiet suburban visit.

Clint comes in for the first handshake. “Hey, so, uh, I’m Clint,” he says. “This is Nat.”

“Give the man some room,” Fury says. “Do you not know how to be around old people?”

“You’re pretty old too, Nick,” Steve says.

“That is classified,” Fury says.

“He can call you Nick?” Natasha says. “Can I call you—”

“No,” Fury says.

Clint is nervous, surprisingly. He tries a bit too hard to be charming, until he relaxes and is actually charming. He grumbles that he missed Peggy during her heyday but _dang_ has he heard stories.

Natasha is quieter, her words sparse. The shyness is only partially an act, and Steve sees how she drinks in the details of their house. She shouldn’t look so young, not when it’s only a handful of years to go before she’ll meet him the first time. Maybe it’s the old soul of her eyes that are deceptive.

Steve is very, _very_ careful.

The younger pair head upstairs to see Peggy, who receives them cheerfully. Steve stays downstairs with Fury, where they share some lemonade.

“Is this how a SHIELD Director plays favorites?” Steve asks.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you,” Fury says.

“Whatever you’ve heard, you can admit that I didn’t sleep my way to the top of the SHIELD ladder.”

Fury hums neutrally.

Steve jerks his head upward. “Kids with potential?”

“Barton certainly thinks so.” Fury shrugs. “Thought Romanoff could use some older-school wisdom.”

“Well, Pegs has plenty to share.”

Peggy has enough energy to come down for a meal, so Steve calls in lunch and the five of them eat together in the dining room. It’s friendly and warm; stories are traded; Steve even learns a few anecdotes of Clint and Natasha that he’d never heard before.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t sting for Natasha and Clint to talk to him as though he’s a stranger. It’s rather like finding an old photo of long-lost friends; they may not be touchable, but there’s still joy in seeing them.

The only thing that _does_ sting is the fact that Steve got a hundred years and Natasha got a fraction of that.

But that’s not to be dwelt on either. Steve’s done his best to honor the choices Natasha made.

 

 

+

 

There’s Sharon, too. They haven’t seen her for a while, not since Lucas died and she got a hush-hush posting in some distant corner of the world. But she comes back to share the good news with Peggy that she’s following her footsteps.

“SHIELD won’t know what hit them,” Peggy says.

 

+

 

After Peggy has her second stroke, she agrees to be moved into a home with full-time care. Ryan makes noise about how Steve and Peggy should just move back to New York to be with Katy, but the ladies of family agree that West Coasters don’t get a vote.

Steve keeps the house, but spends most of his time at the care home, anyway.

 

+

 

Then it starts.

Steve watches the news bulletins of Tony’s kidnapping and eventual rescue. He watches the _I am Iron Man_ press conference in real time.

He asks Katy to bring Spencer and the kids over for a weekend. That same weekend, the Hulk makes an appearance in New York.

He cuts out newspaper clippings about Thor and his friends’ appearance in New Mexico.

He picks up the call that’s meant for Peggy: it’s Maria Hill, who wants to tell Peggy that Steve Rogers has been found in the ice.

 

+

 

Steve’s ready. He’s packed his bag, checked in with the carers (Peggy’s doing good today), and called a taxi to take him to the train station. Said taxi should be arriving in the next half hour, so all he has to do is lock up the house.

The last thing Steve needs is for Strange to show up and block the door.

“Come on,” Steve says in exasperation.

Strange’s cloak flares out in an attempt to be threatening. “There is nothing about this trip that’s a good idea.”

“Stephen,” Steve says patiently, which makes Strange bare his teeth, “this is literally the one chance in all of this reality for there to be three Steve Rogers in New York at the same time. _Three._ That is cool.”

“I have no opinion on its supposed coolness.”

“It’s not like I can interfere,” Steve says. “What am I going to do? Grab the shield from my counterpart?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I know which buildings get damaged and which don’t. My mind? Sharp as a tack.”

“Not that kind of dangerous,” Strange says. “An infinity stone switch point is coming up. Do you remember what I said about how both versions happened?”

“The one where it played out the regular way, and the one where the Avengers time-traveled. Yes, I remember. Will I get a headache when the switch point happens? Will I throw up? I mean, it’s going to happen anyway, so I might as well be in the city when it does.”

Steve smiles at him, expectant.

“Wait,” Steve says. “Do you even know what’s going to happen?”

“I…” Strange sighs. “Not from this vantage point, no.”

“Then I might as well go. I have to be _somewhere_.” Steve can feel the tide turning and presses on, “I’m an old man, Strange. Let me have this. I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

“I suppose by ‘good’ you mean, ‘a pain in the ass’.”

“This is the final stretch,” Steve points out. “And it bears repeating: I’m _old_.”

“Which means you could hurt yourself.”

“Then come along. You think I need a bodyguard? Let’s go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Outside, the taxi driver honks his horn.

 

+

 

Strange lets him go. Steve takes this to mean that it’s all in the clear, but when he arrives in New York, Strange is right there waiting for him.

“Obviously,” Steve tells Strange, “this means that you were always meant to escort me into the city.”

They walk out of Grand Central together: Strange a non-tourist escort in an illusion of smart casualwear, and Steve a doddering old man who can’t stop looking up at Stark Tower. Strange may be exuding intense disgruntlement, but Steve knows that he’s right. The magical compulsion that drags Strange across the years to stop Steve obviously has no qualms about letting them do this.

Steve finds a café. _The_ café, where he used to come those first few weeks after waking up from the ice. He sits and orders tea and a pastry. Strange has coffee.

“We don’t have much time,” Strange says.

“Sure we do,” Steve says. “We’re going over there.”

“That’s… what?”

“I know for a fact that the library gets only superficial damage. Did the clean-up sweep myself.” Steve considers their surroundings. Even if any of the bystanders are interested in eavesdropping, it’s too noisy out here in the open for it. Strange is more cautious than he is, anyway. “Or we could go to your… what is it? Magician’s HQ?”

“Not that it matters, but it’s called the Sanctum Sanctorum.”

“More memorable than ‘Avengers Tower’.”

“And no, we’re not going there.”

“I suppose not. You’re not in residence yet.” Strange’s right eye twitches, and Steve smiles. “Bruce met your friend. The Ancient One? She told him that he was a few years off from getting to meet you. That’s funny, isn’t it? We’d all assumed that you’ve been doing this job for a while, when it turns out you’d only been a wizard for, what, a year? Before you had to take on Thanos.”

“How long did you have the serum before you went off to war?”

“Oh! Don’t misunderstand me, I think it’s incredible.”

Strange starts. Then frowns. “Thank you.”

“Does that mean you’re in a loop of sorts as well? If the Ancient One knew to expect you?”

“I suppose foresight is functionally a type of loop.”

Steve thinks. “Do you think that maybe _I_ was always meant to live out my life in the proper order, but the universe intervened and my loop is the consequence of that?”

“The universe cares less than you think.”

“You young people need to open your mind.” Steve ignores Strange’s controlled inhale. “Maybe the universe needed me to be at the peak of my physical health at this particular point in time. From Thanos’s first strike against Earth, up until his last.”

“And then, what? The universe apologized by dumping you back where you came from?”

“Well, the infinity stones hold the universe together, don’t they? And the Tesseract _was_ kind of responsible for the reason I crashed into the ice. Are the stones sentient? The mind stone did create Ultron.” Steve finishes his pastry. “Are the infinity stones like the Rings of Power?”

“Good god,” Strange mutters.

“Ah, so you don’t know,” Steve says kindly. “Are you finished? I’m finished. We can go.”

Steve pays, and they get up. On the way the library, Strange sighs and says, “Do you need help with your bag?”

“No, thank you,” Steve says.

In the library, there’s very little fussing about. Steve’s had time to plan this. He knows which wing to go, and which spot by the window is best. There are benefits to being a senior citizen, among them needing only to smile to get the seat he wants. Strange stays nearby.

Steve takes a book out from his bag, but it’s only to have something in front of him. His attention is focused on the view beyond the window.

Tony’s the first to arrive, a comet of red and gold heading straight for the tower.

“Two threads, folded back together,” Steve says quietly. “I can wrap my head around that. But what about the Titan?”

“What’s that?” Strange says.

Steve lowers his voice further for the name: “Thanos. We defeated him twice. How does that work out for a single timeline?”

“With a shitload of glue and the controlled collapse of a black hole,” Strange says. “The rest of it’s highly technical.”

“Fair enough.”

Outside, the yelling starts. There’s the blue beam of light from atop the Stark tower, though the portal itself is just out of view. The first wave of Chitauri come down as tiny dark dots that become less tiny real quickly.

Steve stands up and hoists the bag over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Strange says.

“People are going to need help taking cover and staying calm.” Steve pats his bag. “I have snacks, first aid, water…”

“You’re going to help?” Strange says in disbelief. “You’re an old man.”

“Not _that_ old.”

 

+

 

The Battle of New York.

Steve gets to see some of it. He sees the Hulk leap by a few times. Thor stops a Leviathan from crashing into the library. Natasha flies past on the back of a Chitauri. Steve sees himself, albeit from a distance, shouting orders for the evacuation of civilians.

But most of it’s spent in the thickening crowd of people hiding in the library, telling stories to calm children and handing out supplies like an eccentric Father Christmas.

The biggest surprise is that Strange stays through most of it. He really is a medical doctor, and Steve gets to see that in action.

Then there’s the infinity stone switch point.

Steve feels it happen. He’s rummaging through his bag when something shifts deep down under his ribcage and close to his core. His heart beats strangely – one, twice, three times – before settling down, and for about an hour Steve has a highly intense bout of déjà vu for nothing in particular.

Steve wonders what he would see if he were outside, or in the tower. Would he see both events play out at the same time, overlaid on each other in double exposure? He might as well wonder what he’d see if he stood in the heart of a star.

It lasts for just over an hour. Steve has to sit quietly for most of it, but everyone’s really nice about that and gives him space. Strange comes over and sits next to him just as it eases up.

Steve releases a deep breath and blinks rapidly to clear his eyes. “That’s it, then.”

“Yes.” Strange’s looking around the room, probably at things that Steve can’t see. “Certainly something to remember.”

“Thanks for staying, though,” Steve says.

“Just doing my job,” Strange replies.

“Of course.”

 

+

 

The Avengers years move far quicker the second time round. Steve figures it’s because he has about a hundred years of accumulated memory by now, so the passing of a year feels like the blink of an eye.

Blink; Tony and Rhodey are saving President Ellis from the Mandarin.

Blink; Fury visits the home to tell Steve that SHIELD has been infiltrated by Hydra and is being dismantled.

Blink; Avengers Tower is up and running.

The Avengers – his _friends_ – and are all over the news, on magazine covers, across the internet. Everyone’s talking about them, from grocery stores to nurses in the home to the neighborhood kids. Even when the sheen fades, the Avengers have become part of the cultural background.

Steve’s had decades contemplate on what it would feel like to actually get here.

He thought it would be surreal, but it’s not, because he’s already had a lifetime of being time-displaced in two different directions. He thought it would be painful, but it’s not that either, because his heart seems to only have space for fierce, sun-bright pride in the good they sent out into world.

 

+

 

This part is kind of cheating, but some habits can’t be broken.

Steve still keeps in touch with the veteran community in New Jersey, and he remembers enough of how it happened the first time that he’s able to finagle the invite. There’s about a dozen WWII vets from across three VAs that get chosen, and they travel together in a convoy courtesy of Iron Man but arranged by Captain America, all the way to Avengers Tower.

The Avengers are throwing a party to celebrate their success in finding Loki’s scepter. Friends and family and acquaintances are all invited. Steve is just one of many to go.

The party itself is noisier than Steve remembers.

Steve eats, chats, and walks around the open floors. It’s a living museum of his memories: Hill and Cho, Tony and Thor, Bruce and Natasha, his counterpart and Sam. They’d had a good year in hunting the scepter, with other missions in between.

Of course, this was also where it started to go wrong.

Somewhere above is the lab where Ultron will be born. Perhaps Ultron is already being born right now as everyone parties. That incident didn’t break the team, but it certainly showed the cracks – some of them wide enough for outside forces to cut all the way through.

Perhaps Steve could—

He’s unsurprised to feel a hand grab his arm. There’s Strange, right on time.

“I was only thinking it,” Steve says.

“And you would have done it,” Strange says.

Steve shrugs a little. “I wouldn’t expect it to change anything. But if I could plant something – a good thought, maybe, or something they can carry onward—”

“Hmm, no,” Strange says.

“But it’s just a—”

They’re interrupted by Thor’s appearing in front of them. Steve snaps his mouth shut, eyes going up to Thor in his dapper pulled-back hair and dark red jacket. He’s taller than Steve remembers.

“Is this man bothering you, sir?” Thor says.

“I’m his carer,” Strange says.

Thor frowns. “Why do you need a carer? You don’t look a day over two hundred.”

Steve laughs, and Thor looks so very pleased with himself. “How old are you, then?” Steve asks.

“A thousand five, give or take,” Thor says.

“See?” Steve says to Strange. “He’s over a thousand and _he_ doesn’t need a carer.”

“I do not,” Thor says, offering his arm. “Though I would very much enjoy trading a battle story or two. If you would honor me.”

“I’ll be good.” Steve smiles beatifically, which he hopes is enough of a promise. Strange lets Steve go, but he hovers nearby, watching as Thor leads Steve back to the rest of the vets.

Thor is charming and hilarious. Steve’s always enjoyed hanging out with him, and today has no urge to leave the gathering that’s settled around them. Steve tells him a story from his time with SHIELD, the details edited carefully. Thor tells them a tale of great gods and world-spanning creatures of destruction, with its details also edited for his audience.

When Steve’s counterpart joins, Steve shrinks back a little and lets others speak instead.

Strange is long gone, too. The urge to do something, to speak to someone – Bruce, maybe – about what’s coming still lingers, but not as strongly.

Steve stays where he is for the rest of the party, and does not do anything more dangerous than ask Thor if he can touch Mjolnir. He can, and he does, but he doesn’t try to pick it up this time.

 

+

 

When Peggy passes away, Steve and their immediate family are with her. He holds her hand through her last breaths, and kisses her on the forehead when he closes her eyes.

“Until the next dance, sweetheart,” he says.

Katy and Ryan handle the funeral arrangements, including flying her and everyone else over to London, where the Carter family plot is. Although Steve literally knew it was coming, the immediate hours, days, of her passing are something of a blur. Katy’s kids Allie and Duncan – grown-ups with their own lives now – keep him company through most of it.

It isn’t as painful this time around. There is the ache of absence, but it doesn’t _hurt_ , not with the gut-punch rawness that Steve remembers from before. He and Peggy had a good, long life together, complications and all.

The gut-punch rawness belongs to his counterpart, whom Steve sees at the funeral. Steve’s sitting at the front row with the rest of the family, and only catches a glimpse of his other self as one of the pallbearers, before he goes to sit a few rows behind with Sam.

Does it count as self-pity if Steve feels sorry for his younger self? Peggy’s death is but one step in a downward spiral that’s going to swallow him whole.

At least Steve isn’t tempted to intervene in any way for this one. His mistakes are his own.

There are a great many people who come to Steve afterward to share their condolences and fond memories of Peggy. She touched so many lives. Steve’s younger self comes by, too, and shakes Steve’s hand with tremendous solemnity.

It’s later, after most of the crowd has cleared and Steve has retreated to a quiet corner of the church to sit down, that he gets an unexpected well-wisher. The footsteps are cautious, and the shoes that come into view are shiny and expensive.

Steve looks up. “Tony,” he says, shocked. “You came?”

“Yeah, I…” Tony shuffles on his feet. “She was Howard’s friend, so it’s the least I could…”

Steve gets up. Tony tries to stop him, but has to give in when Steve’s insistent.

“I’m sorry, that’s not…” Tony smiles, sheepish and self-conscious. “It’s not just because of Howard. Peggy was a huge force. I owe her, too. Of course I’d come to pay my respects.”

“Thank you, I know you’re busy.” Steve had no idea. “Rogers and Wilson might still be around somewhere.”

“Kinda keeping a low profile right now.” Tony says that lightly, but Steve knows better.

 _This_ hurts. It’s the final straw, perhaps, on top of Peggy’s passing and seeing his younger self on the cusp of some of his greatest regrets. Steve did both Tony _and_ Bucky the injustice, and allowed the splintering of the Avengers to boot. And now Steve gets to find out that Tony came here, quietly and without wanting to make waves; a reminder of Tony’s repeated reaching out for compromise.

“Oh, hey.” Tony misreads Steve’s face and approaches, opening his arms hesitantly. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Steve moves into the hug and closes his eyes. This is cheating, too, but he’s never had one from Tony before.

“Thank you for coming,” Steve tells him.

After that, Steve keeps himself busy with the kids and grandkids and Peggy’s extended family, doing such fun things as managing her estate and resting where he can. He avoids watching the news until it’s all over.

 

+

 

Steve and Peggy had had long debates on how much their kids should know about who he is. There were risks either way, but what cemented their decision was that Strange didn’t show up to stop them from telling.

Katy and Ryan have known since they were teenagers. Katy, for her part, had suspected that some of the oddness surrounding Steve was due to his being a former spy or part a witness protection program. The truth would have been more difficult for them to swallow, if not for the fact that they’d grown up hearing and being able to keep secret Peggy’s stories of espionage and world-saving antics and nigh-unbelievable feats of technology.

Katy’s kids were not raised that way, and so were only told after Steve’s counterpart came out of the ice. With Iron Man and Thor and alien forces being a way of the world, it was slightly easier to believe.

Their knowing is important for a number of things, aside from simple honesty as is owed between them. They help Steve provide cover when he needs it. They listen (well, _mostly_ listen) when Steve warns them of big events to come.

They can prepare for the Snap.

“It’s going to be a huge mess,” Steve tells them, “but people will help each other. _We_ need to help each other.”

“Five years is a long time,” Katy says.

Steve lives with Katy now, having moved in with her and Spencer after settling matters in DC. Time seems to fly even faster, and it seems that they have barely a few months to prepare: making lists, stocking up supplies, putting community networks in place and so on.

A week before, Duncan comes up to join them in New York.

The day before, Steve goes up to the apartment roof to watch Thanos’s ship come down over Manhattan.

On the day itself, the four of them hunker down in the apartment. They watch the news, check the internet, review everything in their preparation list. Ryan and his partner are staying in LA, and Allie is with her husband, but they keep in contact through the family chat group.

Spencer is the first to go. Katy looses a low, rattling sob when her hand passes through his. Duncan holds his mother. Steve tries to do the same, but realizes that he can’t.

Steve looks down at his hands. His fingers are breaking away into clumps of dust.

“Oh,” Steve says. “So that’s how it feels—”

 

+

 

Steve opens his eyes.

He’s on the floor of Katy’s apartment. Spencer is nearby and slowly getting up. Katy and Duncan are all here too, and they help all three of them get up in turn.

A first glance confirms the five years in Katy and Duncan’s faces. The apartment has changed around them, and the skyline outside is ever-so-slightly different. After a long beat of relief and disbelief, everyone falls into hugs with everyone else, sobs mixed into their laughter.

“Geez, Grandpa,” Duncan. “I know you said five years, but.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “We tried our best.”

There’s crying and shouting outside, too – in the apartments and on balconies and out on the street.

The first few weeks of the Revival are going to be difficult. But after that?

After that, Steve has no idea. _Finally_.

Duncan grabs at his phone and scrolls quickly. “Allie’s back, too,” he says.

Katy plucks the phone from his hand. “Maybe you should wait before making jokes about being older than her now.”

 

+

 

  
There’s a lot for the others to catch up on. Friends, work and the daily lives beyond, all of which had to come to almost a complete halt.

As for Steve, his world has been steadily shrinking over the past few decades, so there’s less for him to check up on. He makes a few calls, visits a few people, and then settles back on being an old man living the quiet life.

A few days after the Revival, Steve gets a visitor.

He’s in the apartment by himself. Katy’s at the firehouse, Spencer’s out, and Duncan’s gone back home.

The portal that appears in the living room is round and expands slowly. When Steve hears it, he goes to stand in the kitchen doorway, watching the portal grow large enough for a grown adult to walk through. Though in this case there are two grown adults: Strange and Wong.

“Hey there,” Steve says.

Strange takes a quick look around the apartment. His eyes are sharp when they land back on Steve. “Hello.”

“I’m just having breakfast,” Steve says. “I don’t see what I could possibly be doing for you to show up.”

“Wait,” Wong says. “You know us?”

Strange’s frown deepens. “He seems remarkably unbothered by the portal, though that could just be a matter of age.”

“Now that’s a little rude,” Steve says. “Of course I know you, I… _Oh_.”

Wong approaches, friendlier. “We kind of need to ask you a few questions. We detected a… an anomaly in this area.”

“Wow.” Steve grins. “It’s not linear anymore.”

Strange and Wong exchange a look. “What’s not linear?” Strange says.

Steve offers a hand out, and keeps it out even when Strange and Wong look baffled.

“I’m Steve Rogers, formerly known as Captain America,” Steve says. “We’ve met before, but not like this.”

 

+

 

Steve doesn’t tell them everything, because it won’t do Strange any harm to figure it out as he goes along just as Steve did. Steve keeps to the basics: that he’s Steve Rogers, that he’s going to jump into the past a few weeks from now, and that he’s going to live the rest of his life the long way round.

Wong is enthralled, but Strange takes a little longer to convince.

“The spell on his face _is_ yours,” Wong points out.

“But a loop like that is dangerous,” Strange says. “It makes no sense.”

“The universe doesn’t care about making sense,” Steve says. “Don’t worry, everything turns out mostly all right. As you can tell by the fact that I’m here.”

Wong wanders over to the walls, where he studies the framed photographs pinned there. “Is this your family?” he asks.

“Oh, yes,” Steve says. “Kids and grandkids. Possibly great-grandkids if I have a few more years left in me, but it’s fine if they’re not ready for that yet. And that’s Peggy, the missus.”

“That’s really nice,” Wong says. He shrugs when Strange scowls at him. “It does sound like it works out.”

“I’m going to have to investigate this further,” Strange says.

“Yes, you should do that,” Steve says. “Oh, and could you find my shield?”

“Excuse me?” Strange says curtly.

“The vibranium shield,” Steve says. “It was damaged in the battle with Thanos, but I’m going to have one – a whole shield, unbroken – in a few weeks. It’s not like I can walk into Wakanda, so I thought perhaps that it came from you.”

Strange opens his mouth, but Wong steps forward and puts a hand on Strange’s arm. “Yes,” Wong says, “we’ll look into that.”

“We are not—” Strange starts.

“Come on,” Wong says quietly to Strange. “He’s Captain America, and he’s really old.”

Steve beams. “Thank you. You should come by again. My son-in-law makes really great lasagna.”

 

+

 

Steve has this date memorized, too. He’s had it memorized for over seventy years.

He gets up, gets dressed and combs his hair. He leaves a note for Katy and Spencer in case he comes back late. He picks up his phone, and is about to swipe through the apps when he hears the firecracker fizzle of a portal opening.

Strange comes marching across the hardwood floor and comes to a halt in front of Steve, hands on his hips. He’s carrying a large leather case with him, which is of a particular size and shape that has Steve’s eyes widening.

“Your shield,” Strange says.

“Oh my.” Steve runs a hand over the leather, feeling the solid curve of metal underneath. “May I know where it came from, or is it one of your mystical mysteries?”

“It’s just your old one, repaired.”

“There’s a spell for that?”

“There’s a repairperson for that,” Strange says. “Shuri.”

“That’s unmagical.”

Strange shrugs. “Wong’s good at making friends, and she was at the…”

“Tony’s funeral,” Steve finishes for him. “Yes, I remember.”

“So all we had to do was find the pieces,” Strange says. “You do want it?”

“Yes, of course.”

Strange carries the shield over to the dining table, where Steve carefully unzips the case. The first glint of vibranium makes him pause. The muscle memory is mostly gone by now, but Steve finds his arms flexing, trying to recall the weight and give of it.

He’d longed for the shield for a long time. There were the seven years after he’d given it up in Siberia, but also almost twice that when he’d gone back in time, until he’d gotten used to its absence. This time, seeing the actual shield in front of him brings back no longing; just a sweet ache of remembrance and fondness.

“Do you think you could give me a lift?” Steve asks. When Strange blinks in surprise, Steve adds, “Or I could just get an Uber. I need to go to the Avengers compound. I mean, where the compound used to be.”

“Sure,” Strange says, though he doesn’t too pleased about it. “Not a problem.”

Steve’s felt old for a long time, but he feels particularly old right now when his heart tries to skip a beat out of anticipation. This isn’t something so cosmic as an infinity stone switch point, but it’s _a_ switch point.

A Steve Rogers switch point.

Strange conjures up a new portal. Steve follows him through it, stepping out from the apartment and into the open air overlooking the lake where the compound used to be.

“Thank you,” Steve says. “And good luck.”

“You, too.” Strange touches his forelock, and disappears through another portal.

Steve stands there for a long moment, studying the shoreline and the open water. It’s peaceful out here, with all signs of battle on this side long gone. He starts to walk, mindful of the shield over his shoulder, tracing the long path away from where the jetty used to be. He can hear construction work, but it feels distant, tinny. Birds sing in the trees.

He spies a just slightly-damaged bench, perfect for sitting on. Steve doesn't remember this being here when he lived at the compound, but maybe Bruce put it there to enjoy the view when he built their second quantum tunnel.

Steve sits on the rock. He can hear voices behind him, of Bruce saying: “And returning in five, four, three, two, one…”

Here they go.

Sam comes up to him first. He looks good, but then again, he always looked good.

“So,” Sam says, “did something go wrong, or did something go right?”

Steve hesitates, but only for a second. The simplest version seems best, especially with the way Sam’s smiling at him – surprised and pleased and trying so hard to hide to the sadness behind both. Steve tells him that after he returned the stones, he’d decided to try some of that life that Tony told him to get.

It’s not _untrue_ , after all.

“How did that work out for you?” Sam asks.

“It was beautiful,” Steve says, which is definitely true.

Steve gives Sam the shield. Steve’s feelings on the role of Captain America – and whether it’s really necessary or not – are complicated, but he knows that Sam is more than capable of handling it. The world has its protectors.

It’s funny. Steve’s been out of the game for a long time, but it’s only now when Sam hefts the shield, that he feels his whole body exhale.

Bucky walks up next. “I did tell you,” he says, soft and amused.

It takes Steve a second to reply. Seventy years is a long time but now the knot in his chest unwinds fully: Bucky is alive and well and completely unsurprised by whatever Steve’s been up to. He figured out how to move on long before Steve.

“You did,” Steve agrees.

Sam and Bucky help him up. There are hugs. There are comments about Steve’s bony elbows. Steve grumbles about young people these days and how that’s a sign of what’s been happening with the world. Bucky asks if Steve is finally as old as he’s always felt; Sam asks if Steve stole the shield and if he should worry about being arrested any time soon.

The three of them walk back towards the quantum tunnel, Steve flanked by the other two.

“Hey, Bruce,” Steve says.

“Steve.” Bruce smiles. “Scenic route?”

“Yeah, what can you do?” Steve says with a shrug. “Hell of a view, though.”

“All the stones?” Bruce says.

“Back where they came from,” Steve says. “Mjolnir, too. There shouldn’t be any…”

He trails off. Everyone’s attention shifts away from what is a heartfelt reunion, and to the snap-crackle of a new portal appearing. Of course, everyone here has seen this type of magic before, so the only response to be had is Sam’s exasperated, “What now?”

This portal is a jagged line, though. Not a circle.

Once the portal is large enough, Strange steps through.

“Ah, perfect,” Strange says. He takes a step forward and pauses, seemingly unsure on whom to address. “I just picked these up.” He opens a hand, revealing the two vials of Pym Particles.

“Oh, that’s mine,” Steve says. “Bruce should have them.”

Bruce takes the Pym Particles from Strange, befuddled but knowing enough to not ask further details. “Waste not, I guess,” Bruce says.

Strange pats at his gloves. For the first time Steve notices the faint tendrils of maybe-magic dancing over Strange’s hair and clothes; a remnant of having to portal through time, perhaps? Steve doesn’t remember that from the later years, so maybe it’s because this is Strange’s first time having to do the jump.

“That’s it, right, Rogers?” Strange says to him. “That’s how you were…”

“Yep,” Steve says. “A closed loop.”

Strange nods, clearly relieved. He summons a round portal, which opens to a somewhat regular-looking library beyond. The Sanctum Sanctorum, perhaps. Strange nods at everyone – respectful, perfunctory. Probably expecting that they’ll only see each other at the next reality-spanning conflict.

After the portal closes behind him, Bucky nudges Steve’s arm. “What did you not tell him?”

Steve just hums vaguely. “He’ll be fine.”

 

+

 

It takes a while for the new Avengers headquarters to be rebuilt. Steve’s in touch with Sam and Bucky, so he hears some of the details.

Pepper’s set up a fund for the Avengers, which is supplemented by T’Challa. Carol, Thor and the Guardians of the Galaxy (mainly Rocket) bring off-world materials for them to use for tech, weapons and suits. Bruce is staying an Avenger for the time being, but more in a support capacity. Sam, Bucky, Wanda and Peter fill out the roster, with hopes for other new members. Fury and Hill return, too.

There’s a gathering ( _party_ ) for the day the compound officially opens for business.

Bucky picks Steve up from the city in his car. (He has a car. And an apartment, not too far from Katy’s.) They talk some, but Steve nods off during the drive. He wakes up when Bucky nudges him.

The new Avengers compound is an amalgam of the old and new. Basic same feel of low, silver-grey buildings in a network, but extended and updated. The Avengers are part of the cosmic map now. A comms tower marks the center of the compound. There are proper landing pads for space ships and those who can fly.

Steve follows Bucky into the building. Everyone’s here – current and former Avengers alike, and others that Steve is honestly impressed found time for what’s ‘only’ a revelry. Carol and Nebula are at the refreshments table trying to make sense of finger foods; Valkyrie, Rhodey and Hope are at the pool table; Shuri seems to be arguing with Rocket about the music.

It’s noisy and raucous, and barely anyone notices Steve’s arrival at first. Steve takes the opportunity to hang back and take it all in: the people, the building, the grand stylized A etched on the wall. Steve takes a handful of steps towards the A, and reads the small, subtle names etched beneath it: _Natasha, Tony, Vision, Pietro_.

Steve hears footsteps approach. It’s Sam, who says, “Hey. You made it.”

“Of course.” Steve lets Sam bring him in.

Steve can admit to enjoying the polite confusion on the familiar faces, as well as the sudden slack of shock that follows once he says his name. Reactions are varied.

“Oh my God!” Peter says. “You got wrinkly!”

Wanda makes a face, but comes in for her hug. “I have been wondering where you were.”

T’Challa is respectful. “My only regret is that we’ll not have a rematch.”

Fury is pissed. “This whole time? You invited me into your _house_. I swear, Rogers.”

Clint goes, “Wait. I’m confused.”

Scott hugs Steve for a long time. “You’re still the handsomest, Cap.”

Thor pats Steve’s shoulders firmly but gently. “Can you still summon Stormbreaker?” He grins. “Shall we try?”

It’s a good day, full of merriment and laughter and trading tales free from the veil of secrecy. Steve enjoys every single second of it, despite it being proof all over again that this is not Steve’s world anymore. It’s wonderful to visit, but that’s all it is: a visit.

Steve is tired far more easily these days, too. He takes a seat and watches the others party on around him.

The universe doesn’t care about being poetic. Despite that, there’s still a poetic moment when Steve hears movement to him and there’s Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts. He conjures up a chair to sit down on next to Steve, his cloak flaring dramatically around him and all.

“Steve,” Strange says.

“Stephen,” he replies. “So, where’d you come from? _When_ ’d you come from?”

“Another party, not too different from this one. You were having a merry ‘ol time with Thor, then.”

“Oh, wow.” Steve offers a hand, and Strange shakes it. The cloak joins in, too, tapping the back of Steve’s hand gently. “Good job. The timeline’s all ironed out now.”

“I know.” Strange laughs, genuine and full of relief. “I can feel it.”

“It was quite the adventure, though.”

“I would hesitate to call it an adventure.”

They’re quiet for a while. Steve recognizes this moment, though it’s been a while since he had one. It happens when acquaintances have experienced something together that is difficult to be understood by anyone who hasn’t shared with it. Not the trauma of battle bonding, but a far more mundane equivalent, such as being stuck together in an elevator overnight, or getting lost together in IKEA.

In Steve and Strange’s case, it’s their navigating a lifetime of paradox, and trying to balance between what’s right and what’s fair, and oftentimes not knowing if they managed even that.

“I did learn something,” Strange says slowly. “About perspective. I have my duty to protect this realm from outside threats. But sometimes the threats are just part of our existence. We cannot escape or undo or erase then. We can only find our own way to live with them.”

“I hope you also learned not to bully old men,” Steve says.

“I’ve learned no such thing.”

Steve lifts his glass of ginger ale. Strange conjures his own glass with a sweep of his hand, and they press their glasses together in a _clink._

Steve thinks: here he is, Steve Rogers, still a Man Out of Time.

But _this_ time, he’s okay with that.

He’s had a decent run, after all, though an unconventional one.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to bella_azzurri for the beta, and to horusporus for the chatlog that resulted in the germ of this idea in the first place. Remaining mistakes (including likely canon details I missed, because there's only so much scouring of the wiki and doing canon-check rewatches one can do before crying) are mine alone.
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr post!](https://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/185164777346/how-to-deal-with-canon-poke-at-it-with-a-stick)


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